New York State Democrats cheer as rest of us grumble

Just as the Chinese emperors of old imposed the Death of a Thousand Cuts, the New York State Democrats are proposing the Death of a Thousand Hikes.

Drafted in shameful secrecy, the new budget has a host of hikes that are incidental when taken one at a time:

A 500% hike in the surcharge on utilities, an average of $100 a year.

A $90 increase in the cost of health insurance.

A $1.20-a-month "public safety" tax on cell phones.

Another "public safety" surcharge: $10 a year on car insurance policies.

A 75-cent increase in the fee for a learner's driving permit.

A 24% hike in car registration fees.

A 4% increase in the tax on car service fares.

A 9% increase in the cigar tax.

A 58% increase in the wine tax.

A 27% increase in the beer tax.

Together, the increases are burdensome in already hard times, more so because the budget preserves as sacred $170 million in political pork.

There is one hike that is actually smart, that brought smiles all around to one small sector of the economy yesterday.

Even as the auto industry crumbled and the big banks teetered and the stock market slumped, there was cause for rejoicing among those who seek economic salvation a nickel at a time by collecting discarded bottles and cans.

The great news for them was the new state budget extends the nickel deposit to containers for noncarbonated beverages, including bottled water.

Roszczeda is from Poland, and he worked as a waiter until he slipped and broke his hip last winter. He now sets out daily with a cane to troll for refundables. He finds a redemption beyond the one that comes nickel by nickel.

"Ja pracuje!" he said. "I work!"

Roszczeda finished depositing the morning's collection of cans in one of the center's seven machines. The machine dispensed a white chit to be redeemed for cash in the adjoining supermarket.

"Wesolego Jajka!" Roszczeda said. "Happy Easter!"

At the next machine stood Matthew Brown, equally cheered by the prospect of expanded deposits.

"That'll be good for a lot of people," Brown said. "The sooner the better."

Brown has been collecting for two years. He has established a regular route uptown where people set out their bottles and cans for him.

"Maybe in the summer I'll go downtown," he said. "Everybody say, 'Go downtown, that's where the money is.' But you got to bring it back."

As it is, he earns enough to get by.

"I look to make $50, $60 a day and then call it quits," he said. "You make your own time. I don't have to pay taxes."

The redemption center is operated by the Tomra Co., represented by 24-year-old Ainsworth Ferril. He gauges the economy's condition by the increasing number of well-dressed people among the depositors.

"Since the recession, you see working people bring in all their cans," he said. "Before, they gave them away. They had too much pride to come. Not any more. People tell me they got laid off, they lost their job."

Ferril figured this was sure to impact the street collectors such as Roszczeda and Brown. The inclusion of water and juice bottles comes just in time.

"It's also helping the environment," he noted.

He was uncommonly upbeat, seeing the varied depositors as figures not of destitution but of resilience and determination.

He feels sure that spirit such as he sees at this bottle bank would carry us through the disaster wrought by those other banks and financiers downtown.